


Everything Remains Impossible

by GeorginoschkaVincen



Series: The SuperWhoLockverse that never was [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural, Superwholock - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Demons, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sequel, Superwholock, stuff and things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeorginoschkaVincen/pseuds/GeorginoschkaVincen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are falling apart<br/>And it seems that everything remains impossible<br/>Although...<br/>Sometimes the impossible isn't as impossible as it seems</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Nothing is as it seems.  
> You should go and read that fic first, really, I don't think this story makes much sense if you don't know what happened before.
> 
> However, who am I to tell you what to do, right?
> 
> Also: I try to update within two weeks, at least once a month ;)

_Everything is possible._   
_In your mind, at least_

_But there will be a time_   
_When your mind_   
_Will come up with the impossible_   
_And then everything ends_

_Because there is no way that_   
_The impossible will be forever_   
_Let alone_   
_Be real_

_Because that is how it is_   
_Everything has to_   
_End_

_Someday_

**Prologue**

"Care to tell me why you have done what you have done?"

Being the King of Hell was troublesome.

Crowley knew that now.

Frankly, if someone would have told him that he was to become the King of Hell itself, he would have laughed. Not because it was impossible, nah, more because he hadn't been able to picture himself in said position - honestly, there hadn't been much he had pictured or dreamed of, besides those little dreams of taking over the world, mind you. But, that were dreams that every demon had once in a while.

Okay, his name hadn't been unknown to start with, but he usually did his business in the dark. Your friendly neighbourhood crossroads demon, always there to offer you a thing or two - for your soul in return, of course.

Ah, and he was smart - smarter than most of the bunch, that was for sure - and yes, it was true; he certainly had leader qualities, had always had them.

But, being the King of Hell?

However, here he was, and to be honest, he really liked his new job. It was his usual job, just that it was a bit more... _official_ now. And of course there was the fame and the respect, and then all those idiots who looked up to him. Well, at least most of them did. And, really, they had no other choice.

That, and a few reasons more, was why he really didn't want to lose that job again, for it was far too much fun.

And he really, really didn't want to lose this job to the _former_ king of Hell.

"Crowley!" The voice was harsh in its own way.

The new King of Hell looked up from his red pin wheel and smiled, though it was a rather forced smile. Right now, it was him who had no other choice than to be nice and obedient.

"I asked you a question." The voice was smooth again, smooth but dangerous. Crowley knew better than to rely on that, because he knew that things were...well...a bit out of control. And that was never good, that was for sure.

Blue eyes narrowed and Castiel's head lowered itself, his eyes never leaving Crowley's face. There was something diabolic about the angel's features and the shadows of the bleak room seemed to merge with his body as if he belonged with them. Only his bright eyes filled with Grace and his pale face stood out against the darkness that was surrounding him.

Crowley wasn't used to talk to Lucifer while he used the angel Castiel as some sort of vessel. You might wonder how the Hell the King of Hell had ended up in said angel's head, but that really was a complicated story of its own, and even Crowley had been baffled at first.

"Calm down." Crowley sighed as he sat up and leaned back against the back of his chair. "I only did what was necessary."

They both knew that it was a lie.

There had been a plan, and well, Crowley had done what he had been told to do, just not exactly the way he _should have_...

Lucifer growled, his hands balled into fists. He wanted to get out of the cage, oh, he did. But he needed Crowley and his demons, need his help.

Ah, what a pleasant feeling, the feeling of being the one in control.

That was the feeling that Crowley had always liked the best.

"You don't plan on betraying me, Crowley, do you?" Lucifer asked, his voice calm and smooth, and even Crowley shuddered slightly as those words washed over him. Lucifer was calm, but that was no good sign, not really...

It mostly meant that something bad was about to happen. It also almost always involved lots of people dying, and since Crowley was the only one in this room it probably meant that he was the one to suffer if Lucifer decided that he had enough of Crowley's game.

Ah, really, maybe he should have know better than to tease Lucifer.

"Me?" The demon chuckled and made a lazy gesture with his left hand. He had to keep his careless and cool façade because only then Lucifer would take interest in him, which meant he would stay alive."I know better than to betray the King of Hell."

And that, for once, was true.

He didn't plan and _betraying_ him, he just didn't want to give up his new job that easily...

You could say, he wanted to ... challenge his former boss, that was all. You know, see if he was worthy enough to do the job again - blah blah blah.

"How about a glass of good old Scotch? You know -" He winked. "To lift the spirits..." He reached for the bottle of whisky that stood to his right on the small table next to his chair. A little distraction, something to ease the tension.

Lucifer said no word, but he didn't need to; the way he looked at Crowley as if he wanted to strangle him was enough to tell Crowley that there was no time for mocking the King.

"I see..." Crowley sighed deeply and thoughtfully scratched his cheek as he leaned back again. "Okay, okay...I made a mistake by letting him go. But the risk of them finding him was too high, I had to-"

"I can see right through your lies -" Lucifer purred , a bittersweet smile on his lips. "And believe me, I won't hesitate to rip you apart if you continue to play games with me, Crowley, because we both know that I am no match for you."

Crowley swallowed hard but then Lucifer shrugged his shoulders. It was surprising how dangerous Castiel looked while Lucifer was using him as his puppet. Crowley had never been afraid of anyone, at least that was what he told himself, but he had always held high respect for the power of the angel.

Now, though, he had to admit that he felt a bit uncomfortable while looking at Castiel, because this was not Castiel; this was Lucifer, who could easily kill him with one simple move of his hand.

"I don't need your apologies, nor do I need the reason for your actions." Lucifer stepped forward, his eyes roaming over the items on the table without really seeing them. "All I need is for him to open the cage."

Crowley nodded slowly. Of course, the cage. Lucifer was still down there, and there was no one who could open that cage, except for one person...

One person, one soul, that was currently in Crowley's custody.

"We will try our best to crack him open." And with that he didn't mean the cage. Crowley smirked.

Lucifer looked up. Castiel's eyes seemed much colder now as they met Crowley's.

"And I need the Time Lord. You have to find him before they do." His face darkened. "They know about the plan."

Crowley raised one eyebrow in surprise. "They do?"

Lucifer nodded grimly, but gave no explanation.

The fallen angel straightened his back and paced up and down in front of Crowley's chair, his hands folded behind his back. He was stern, but not worried. It seemed that he was sure that his plan would work.

"The Winchesters already suspect something to be wrong with Castiel. My connection isn't strong enough and his Grace fights me even if he doesn't know that I am here." Lucifer made an angry grimace and Crowley had to hide his amusement.

Castiel really was something...

"I don't think I will be able to control him for much longer.." Lucifer mused as he grabbed the bottle of scotch. He eyed it with tilted head as he continued to speak, though he seemed to have little interest in the amber liquid. "And I don't think I need to."

Of course, as soon as the real Lucifer was free, the connection to Castiel's mind and the remains of his presence wouldn't be necessary anymore...

"But-" Lucifer carefully placed the bottle back onto the dusty table and smiled. "-This will only work if I can be sure that you will help me, Crowley. I can rely on you, right? You will continue to help me, won't you?"

There was no _yes_ or _no_ \- there was just _yes_.

"Yes." Crowley smiled broadly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I can assure you that I will do everything within my power to find the Time Lord." He paused. "Opening the Cage included, of course."

Lucifer nodded, pleased with the outcome of the talk. "Very well, Crowley. You have chosen your path. I can only hope that you won't leave it again." He smiled.

There was the rustle of feathers and the air moved slightly as the giant wings carried the angel away and out of Crowley's sight.

He sat there for a few minutes, the pin wheel moving slowly. The room seemed darker and colder now that the angel and his Grace were gone, but Crowley was glad to be alone again.

 _Angels..._ Their Grace was burning even underneath the flesh of their meatsuits.

It was disgusting, really. Too bright.

The King sighed loudly and threw the pin wheel through the room, for he had no need for it anymore.

"Bloody angels..." He grumbled to himself, a glass ready in his hand. He reached for the Scotch and poured the drink into the glass. "They never leave you alone." He mumbled, the glass at his lips.

As said, being the King of Hell was actually really stressful.

.

Somewhere, at the same time, a young man was running down a street. It was raining, but he hardly felt the rain, even if the button-down shirt was everything else than a warm protection against the harsh wind.

He was soaking wet from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, his brown hair hanging into his eyes. He tried to push it out of his face several times, but the wind always tugged it loose again.

Every inch of his body ached and breathing was difficult, as if something had been ripped out of him and was now missing, as if there was a hole that was open and bleeding.

There was blood, had been blood, but the rain had washed it away.

But he felt nothing now, nothing but the dull ache and the pain in his head.

He felt numb.

If he could see himself he would notice how pale he was, that he was trembling terribly.

The world was grey, at least the world he knew, at least what he saw now.

Was it always this grey? Was this how the world was supposed to look like?

Was it normal?

There was no sound besides the rain and the blood rushing in his ears.

The streets were empty, and so was he.

All he felt was emptiness.

A big, gaping hole inside him, inside his mind.

He..

He didn't know where he was, what he was doing...

He knew nothing. His mind was blank.

He shivered, but he was not sure if it was because of the cold weather or the fact that he had no idea who he was or what had happened.

Rounding a corner, his breath unsteady, he felt chased but didn't know why.

"Outch!" Someone gasped.

A woman.

He staggered backwards and nearly fell to the wet ground, his hands searching for support but finding none.

The woman looked at him, confusion on her face, but then she reached out and grabbed his shoulders to steady him before he doubled over.

She had bright red lips, hair so blond that it was almost white. Her clothes were bright and didn't fit the weather. To be honest, she only wore a short skirt in black and a top that seemed to small for her. He was almost sure it was too small for her, because her breasts clearly wanted to escape the tight shirt.

He wondered why anybody would wear an outfit like that. Maybe she didn't know how to dress herself? Or maybe she had no money? But the big golden earings and the face full of make-up seemed to tell another story...

So, maybe that was what people liked to wear today?

But who was he to judge her? She seemed to like what she was wearing, so everything was fine, was it? Although she shivered, a sign that she felt cold.

She really should have taken a jacket with her, at least. Next time she would know better.

"Are you alright? Is he a drunk, harassing you?"

There was another woman. She stood next to the brick wall, and her hair was as dark as the night. She, too, wore clothes that seemed to be unfitting for the cold weather.

He noticed that her skin was darker and her hair curly.

She eyed him with cold, dark eyes, not stepping outside the shadow of the wall. Somehow he had the feeling she didn't trust him and was hiding in the shadows.

"I don't know." The woman in blond admitted. "He stumbled into me."

She turned to him again, a smile on her lips. "Are you alright, sugar? Do you need help?" Her voice was soft but a bit distanced, as if she wasn't sure how to handle him.

He didn't react, his green eyes wide and afraid. He was shivering again, or had he been shivering the whole time?

"Hey?" She seemed worried now, her brow furrowed and her eyes searching for his. "Are you alright? Did something happen to you?"

Suddenly her eyes widened as she spotted the blood on his shirt. "Have you been hurt?!" She asked, looking him up and down with her eyes, afraid to find more blood or a serious wound. "Was there a fight?!"

"I am sorry..." He answered, slowly, unsure of his own words. He was slightly out of breath and his voice sounded strange to his own ears. "But I am afraid I don't understand you."

His head did hurt.

The woman blinked, surprised, and turned back to her friend. At least he assumed that the other woman was her friend. What else would they both be doing here in the side street during this horrible rain?

Or was that normal?

"What... What the Hell did he say?"

No word.

Everything they said, he couldn't understand it. Slowly but surely he felt panic rising inside his chest.

This meant he was far from home, this meant he could be everywhere but where he should be!

The dark haired woman shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno. Couldn't understand a word he said. Sounds foreign to me. Maybe he's from Europe?"

The blond woman sighed and turned back to him. She eyed him with her hazel eyes, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're right. Just look at him, haven't seen anyone like this around here. And that outfit, no one in his age wears that. Didn't even know that someone so young would willingly touch a tweed-jacket."

The other woman laughed but nodded. "See, told ya."

"But, what now?" The woman let go of him and he followed her movements with his eyes, his arms slung around his hurting body as if to protect himself. He was nervous, didn't know what to do.

"I mean, he seems lost, kinda. And look at him, something's not right. He looks a bit ill, if you ask me, and there is blood..."

The both exchanged a look.

"I am Judy." The dark haired woman suddenly said, pointing at herself as she took a few steps out of the shadow of the wall. "Judy."

"And I-" The blonde laid her hand on her chest."- I am Mell." She smiled again. Her round face was friendly, but he felt like a scared animal that they tried to calm down.

Maybe that was what he was? A scared animal?

They waited, and he realized that it was his turn now - they wanted to know his name.

But...

He had no name, couldn't remember it.

He smiled nervously, unsure about what to do next, and shrugged his shoulders while shaking his head. He winced a bit as the movement caused pain to spread through his body. Something was damaged...

They seemed confused, and so he sighed and pointed at himself like they had done earlier, shrugging his shoulders again.

"I don't know my name." He said, apologetically. "I can't remember."

It was no use, though. They couldn't understand him anyway.

He felt helpless, and he hated it. He didn't want to feel helpless and alone, and empty and afraid, he just wanted to know who he was and what was going on!

He just... wanted everything to be alright again...

Judy raised one eyebrow, then she laughed. He didn't know what was funny about this situation, but at least she seemed to accept him now, which was a good start.

Maybe they could help him?

Maybe they could find someone who knew who he was and what had happened to him?

They seemed nice, friendly; he was sure they could help him, he was sure!

He allowed himself to relax a bit, but the tension in his limbs was not entirely gone.

"Let's take him somewhere dry." Mell suggested."He looks miserable already, and he's hurt. I don't think getting sick makes it better."

She smiled at him, warm and friendly, and took his arm. He flinched, without knowing why, but she shushed him. "It's alright." She said, slowly, as if he would understand her words better that way.

He couldn't.

No word.

"We are going to find someone who is going to take care of you."

He was lost.

 


	2. Allons-y!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daily life in the TARDIS is always full of surprises

**Chapter One**

He hated him.

Every time he looked at him he wanted to strangle him; because he was stupid, because he was too cheerful, because he was the exact opposite of him _.  
_

Mostly though because he was who he was, or better - because of who he wasn't.

The Doctor had fallen asleep over his work, whatever his work had been. Paperwork with scribbles written in Gallifreyan was scattered all over the big wooden table and the floor of the TARDIS, and an inkwell had fallen over and was the reason for the black puddle that the Doctor's face was currently lying in.

He hated him, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself every time he saw that face.

His bow-tie wasn't half as cool as the tie had been, the tweed-jacket was horrible and the hair was a matter of its own. And, seriously, you could hurt someone with that chin.

The most annoying thing, though, was his attitude; the way he talked without the accent, the fact that he was an old man in the body of a young man looking like a twelve-year-old while acting like a hyperactive five-year-old boy on dope, the fact that he didn't _need_ the Master like his previous incarnation...

And there were at least around a dozen things more why he hated him.

Ten had been desperate, lonely, and he had been so glad that the Master was alive. He had _needed_ the Master.

Eleven, however, was full of energy and could hardly sit still, was always bouncing around and couldn't focus on one thing without doing another at the same time. He didn't need the Master around, or at least not as much as Ten had needed him. He was naïve, dewy-eyed.

They never had arguments, no; instead they had small fights over little things and it always felt as if they were kids fighting over candy.

He didn't hate him, though.

Not really.

The Master just missed someone who the Doctor wasn't anymore.

You would think after the time they had travelled together he would get used to it, used to _him_ , but he didn't. Especially after what had happened, especially now that he had to see those mismatched eyes day for day for day, a constant reminder of the years that could have lasted forever but had never been.

If he only had the opportunity of getting _his_ doctor back, he would take it without thinking twice.

The Master huffed in annoyance as he walked down the long corridor, his hands now in the pockets of his black suit jacket. He wore a black suit because a black suit was more fitting and a lot cooler than the hoodie and the old jeans he had been wearing the whole time. However, it changed nothing about the fact that he still wasn't ruling the universe. But at least he was well dressed, and that was always a good start.

It was quiet here, only the soft humming of the TARDIS was to be heard.

No drums.

They were gone.

It was a bit sad, but he almost missed them. They had been there, all the time, a constant reminder of his sanity and the fact that he was alive, that he was himself.

Now they were gone, and all that was left was nothing but silence. He could hear his own thoughts now and that was a whole new level of madness...

He felt alone, that was it. The drums had been there to fill his silence, and now there was nothing and no one to take their place, because the Doctor was too busy minding his own business while the Master had no one left.

Well, there was the TARDIS of course, but she was out of question for she hated him more than anyone else, and that just because he had upgraded her a little but...

And there was the detective, Sherlock Holmes, oh yes, but he had no intentions of making new friends because all he wanted was the Doctors attention; he wanted to be the center of his problems, the thing that kept him awake at night because he was afraid of him but yet at the same time couldn't deny that he loved him with both of his hearts and...

The Master sighed dramatically.

He had planned to walk past the library, because what was there to do besides making paper planes out of old pages, but he stopped as he saw Sherlock and Balthazar playing chess.

The library was big and old, bigger and older than any library you could find on earth. Several floors of bookshelves after bookshelves filled with books that held knowledge older and greater than any human could imagine.

Several books here were about Gallifrey, one of them even about the Time War.

The Master had never touched these books, would never touch them. Gallifrey was long gone, and the last time it had tried to come back it hadn't ended well for anyone.

The Master leaned against the door frame.

Sherlock was leaning over a chess board, his cat-like eyes narrowed and his hands folded on the old wooden table. He seemed deep in thoughts, his eyes wandering over every single chessmen while he calculated his next step.

Balthazar grinned, his legs dangling over the armrest of his armchair while he watched Sherlock with amusement written all over his face.

This was not the real angel, it was the TARDIS _playing_ Balthazar because she had stored the last bit of his Grace and memory in her system in order to keep at least a part of him alive. The Master could see the golden energy flickering and swirling inside the slightly transparent body, a constant reminder that Balthazar was nothing else than a hologram created and guided by the TARDIS.

A rather sad fate, to be honest, because this Balthazar was nothing but a shadow of the real angel himself.

It was almost as if Balthazar had heard him, because he looked up and met the Master's gaze. The hologram's face turned into an angry grimace and it disappeared in a rush of golden energy.

The Master snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest; the TARDIS couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him, even if it was just a hologram that she used to take form. She really couldn't stand the Master.

What a pity.

Sherlock was surprised by the sudden disappearance of Balthazar and raised his head to find out what had caused the action. He found the Master standing in the doorway.

"She is still angry at you." The detective stated, even if it was obvious.

"Yeah, well , we have... history." The Master smiled cooly.

The ship hissed and rattled and the Master rolled his eyes. "She just can't get over it. Now she's just bitching around."

"It seems that she is rather upset." Sherlock mused, his gaze directed at the ceiling and the flickering lights as if he was searching for something. "You must have caused her great damage once."

"Ha, great damage!" The Master shock his head. "She was beautiful! But that stupid thing doesn't know what's beautiful and what isn't."

There was an angry buzzing sound, then the lights went out.

"Hm..." Sherlock sighed and looked around, but it was almost impossible to see anything without the lights. "I assume this means we continue our match another time." That was directed at the TARDIS.

"Whatever." The Master replied, not caring at all, and turned away. He had better things to do than watching Sherlock while he was crying over his unfinished game of chess. Setting things on fire, for example, was always fun.

"You wouldn't be interested in a chess match?" Sherlock asked casually as he followed the Master.

The Time Lord had to suppress the urge to push the detective back into the dark library. "No, thank you." He turned around the nearest corner without looking back. "I have more than enough things I would rather do than spending my precious time with a human."

Time Lords had invented chess and therefore a match against Sherlock would be boring _and_ a waste of time.

Yes, he would rather set himself on fire and jump off a cliff.

Wait, stop, wasn't that a scene from _The Lord of the Rings_?

The Master shock his head as he searched for his cherry-red mp3 player. It was time for some music!

Several minutes later and the Scissor Sister's _I can't decide_ echoed through the whole TARDIS while the Master was dancing around the console, pushing various buttons and grinning to himself.

"NO!" A scream that was barely hearable over the loud music.

He chuckled and swirled down the glass stairs, placing one foot in front of the other and singing along. " _I can't decide whether you should live or die_!"

"What have you done?!" It seemed that the Doctor was awake now. Ah, good!

"Master!" And he was rather furious! Splendid!

" _Oh, you'll probably go to heaven please don't hang your head and cry_!" He was screaming over the music rather than singing along.

"MASTER!"

Oh, he loved when the Doctor used his name.

.

"Oh, yes, let's stop somewhere, somewhere nice!" The Doctor bounced around the console, his eyes bright. Again he looked like a kid being excited about cookies.

The Master eyed him from afar while leaning against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his pants. It had been a while since they had landed somewhere and the Doctor was getting restless.

"Sherlock, tell me, where do you want to go?"

Sherlock had no time to answer because the Doctor continued. "There is a planet made of glass!" He was babbling, talking fast and without thinking. "Or do you want to go to earth again? How about the future, or the past? We could visit the nineteenth century or -"

"I would like to go back." Sherlock's voice was calm.

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, his face blank. "Back?" He echoed, sounding lost, and the Master felt almost sorry for him. Almost.

Ah, and he tried so hard to hide it, his fear of being left alone - again.

Sherlock nodded slowly, patently. "I never thought I would say this but I think I miss..." He paused, struggling for words. His face was calm, though.

"You miss that friend of yours." The Master sneered, amused by the whole situation.

"John, yes." Sherlock agreed, and smiled slightly at the thought of his friend. "And my work." He added.

_Yeah, of course_ , the Master rolled his eyes, _that's what you keep telling yourself_.

The Doctor looked almost hurt, his hands nervously fiddling with a switch. "Ah, yes, yes of course! I understand that." He smiled politely and managed to hide his sadness.

_No_ , the Master thought, _you don't_.

Sherlock had a normal life, with normal friends, and a normal job. He even had a family.

The Doctor had neither of them.

So how could the Doctor understand any of this? He was selfish again, wanting Sherlock to stay because he didn't want to be alone with the Master - because he wanted a _companion_.

A _human_ companion.

Because he was so bloody fond of them.

But Sherlock had to leave them eventually, because everyone who stayed too long at the Doctor's side was likely to die somewhere far from home.

He broke them, his little human companions.

The Master was the only one strong enough to handle him, oh yes, because the Master wouldn't break so easily. Or maybe, maybe because he was broken already.

However, there was something else, something that the Doctor hadn't been telling Sherlock, something he should have told him long time ago.

John, Sherlock's dear John, was missing.

_Oh_ , glee began to fill the Master, _Oh Doctor, Doctor! What are you going to do now?_

He had tried to find him. _They_ had tried to find him. Oh, but he was nowhere to be found. And the Doctor had taken Sherlock with him, hoping that he could keep him away from the twenty first century long enough until they had found his John again.

Oh, but neither the Doctor nor the Winchesters had been able to find him.

"Okay, okay but-" The Doctor pointed at Sherlock, a big grin on his face. "One last trip."

Sherlock raised one eyebrow, probably because he was skeptical. One trip usually meant ten more... or twenty more.

"Really, just one more!" The Doctor promised, the excited gleam back in his mismatched eyes. "You have to meet them, Amy and Rory! Haven't seen them in a while, have to visit them again, so why don't you come along? I bet you'll like them, yes, you will, they are brilliant and nice and -" He made a weird gesture with his hand. "Friends of mine. Human. You'll like them."

The Doctor's eyes wandered to the Master, almost as if trying to search for support. However, the Master had no interest in helping the Doctor because it was always much more fun to watch him while he was struggling to remain calm and collected while in reality he was about to have a mental breakdown. The Master smirked and the Doctor's gaze returned to Sherlock.

Sherlock was silent for a few minutes. He was seemingly in thoughts, but the Master was sure that he had already figured out that something was wrong. He was Sherlock Holmes, after all; he always knew when something was going on.

Or,maybe he didn't?

The Doctor was a good actor...

"Alright." The detective nodded in agreement, and the Doctor grinned from ear to ear.

"Good!" The Doctor clapped his hands. "Great! You should take a nap now! It will take a bit till we reach earth and I don't want you to fall asleep -" He was babbling, waving his hands. He wasn't looking at Sherlock but played being busy with the console.

Sherlock gave the Master a quick and almost questioning glance, but the Master stared ahead. He didn't want to interfere, didn't want to explain things. He could mess it up ,yes, but the Doctor would be very angry and the Master was too lazy to deal with an angry Doctor right now.

"I see." Sherlock hummed.

He knew that something was up, he knew it. And the Doctor was all suspicious now.

Sherlock followed the Doctor with his gaze, his brow slightly furrowed. The Master was sure that he was trying to deduce something, anything, that he was trying to get behind the Doctor's weird behavior.

The Doctor, however, was too busy playing busy, his hands sliding over the console with its buttons and switches, his feet dancing over the glass floor.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" The detective asked warily. "You seem a bit...nervous."

The Doctor stopped in his tracks and looked up from the console. "Me? Nervous? Nooo, no! I am not nervous, I am excited! Excited, yes!" He gave Sherlock a big grin before he turned his attention back to the console, humming to himself.

Sherlock turned to the Master, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'don't look at me, I don't know what's wrong with that idiot'.

"Alright." Sherlock nodded to himself and turned towards the corridor. "See you in a few hours, I suppose."

He didn't put up a fight, didn't argue. He would probably go back to his room where he would ponder about the Doctor's words and his weird behavior.

The Master waited till Sherlock was gone until he raised his voice. "When do you plan on telling him the truth? Or -" The Master's eyes narrowed as he walked up to the Doctor, who stood silently at the console. "Do you want to lie to him, like you always do, until he has figured it out on his own?"

The Doctor pressed his lips together and tried to avoid the Master's intense stare. Instead he looked at his own hands which fiddled with the console.

"No, no, of course not..." He mumbled. "It's just...I just need more time, we need more time. I am sure we can find John..."

"So you plan on lying to him until you have found John?" The Master snorted. "Great, you're right, you're totally not lying to him at all."

The Doctor sighed heavily and pushed himself away from the console, his brow furrowed while he was shaking his head. "No, well, yes. But, no." He sighed again and walked towards the railing so he could lean against it with his back.

"I am only trying to keep him and everyone save." It was a poor excuse.

"You are only afraid of the consequences." The Master straightened his back as he watched the Doctor.

"Of course I am!" The Doctor glared at him, his fingers wrapped tightly around the railing. His body swayed slighty from side to side as if to calm himself. "It is our fault after all! If we only had been faster..." He trailed off and there was pain visible on his face.

Oh, so he was blaming himself after all, like he always did.

"Well, maybe." The Master shrugged his shoulders but made no move towards the Doctor. He really didn't want to comfort the Doctor, and that was why he stayed where he was and continued to guilt-trip him. That was much more of his liking.

The Doctor chewed nervously on his lower lip, deep in thoughts. The noises of the TARDIS filled the oppressive silence.

"Ah, but, I get to see my Ponds again." He smiled, suddenly in a better mood again. "I wonder if they have missed me? I mean, of course they did! But, you know, they have a normal life now, I don't think they need me, do they?"

He was so good at changing the topic.

The Master wasn't listening, instead he looked at his fingernails and pondered about different ways of conquering the earth and several other planets. Really, he had no time for the Doctor's sad feelings.

"You aren't even listening." The Doctor pouted. At least he had stopped talking about the Ponds.

"Of course not." The Master answered without looking up from his nails. He didn't want to see that face, he really didn't.

"Yes, of course not..." The Doctor took a deep breath through his nose and strode back to the console, his shoulders slouched forward. He was disappointed, the Master could literally feel it, and somehow it made him angry.

Why was he disappointed, he had _no right_ to be disappointed, if there was anyone who _had_ the right to be disappointed then it was _him_ , the Master!

There was silence again.

How he hated that silence.

"And now?" He leaned towards the Doctor who leaned away a bit, although it was not to escape the Master's presence but to reach for a switch to his right.

"Now?" The Doctor smiled, his hand reaching past the Master to check a display. "Now we have no other choice than to go back to earth."

A jerk went through the whole TARDIS and the Master nearly lost his footing. He was about to scold the Doctor, but then he said _it_ and the Master closed his mouth while his hearts ached a bit.

"Allons-y!"

The Doctor grinned and turned to the Master who met his smile with a blank face. The Doctor's smile faltered and he realization dawned on his face.

"Oh, oh! I am sorry, I did it again, didn't I?"

The Master nodded stiffly and the Doctor rubbed his face with one hand, the other still clutching the console.

"I didn't mean to..."

Of course he didn't ,but he had no control over it. It where words, gestures, things that had imprinted themself as an echo into his current soul, all because of the messed-up regeneration. Or, de-regeneration. However you want to call it.

It happened from time to time, and usually it were just little things, but sometimes it was as if _he_ was back, and the Master hated it, hated it because it gave him hope, hope he didn't want and didn't need.

"Let's just ignore it." The Master snarled and turned away from the Doctor and the console. It wasn't his fault, but the Master blamed him nevertheless.

There was always someone who was to blame.

And if there wasn't you had to find someone and blame them instead.

The Doctor knew that it wasn't his own fault, that it really was the Master's fault, but he took the blaming and was silent about it, enduring it just because he hoped that the Master would feel better afterwards, but it made the Master so much more angry.

This was not what he wanted.

He was childish, throwing a tantrum again, but he didn't care, he never cared, that was who he was.

The Doctor cared enough for both of them anyway.

"I am sorry." The Doctor said, again, reaching out for the Master as if to soothe him. The Master wanted to scream into his face because it wasn't his fault! Why did he apologise for everything even if it wasn't his fault?

Because he was the Doctor, of course.

It was supposed to be the other way around, it was supposed to be the Master telling the Doctor that he was sorry.

"Ah, just shut up! I don't need your stupid apologies!"

Instead he only tried to push him further away.

The Master left the control room without looking back at the Doctor, who stood hunched over the console with both hands pressed flat against the steel while his hair was hiding his face.

The Master didn't want to see his face.

He really didn't.

.

The TARDIS materialized in the backyard of the Ponds. The Doctor wasted no time and jumped out of his ship with a big grin, his arms wide open.

"Ponds!" He shouted, and the Master had to cover his ears. "My Ponds, where are you?"

The Doctor had phoned them, had told them that he would visit them. The Master didn't know if they had agreed or not, the Doctor hadn't told him.

There was no answer and the Doctor furrowed his brow in confusion, his arms still raised as if to hug the Ponds.

"Amy!" He shouted. "Rory, I am here now. TARDIS, backyard, with friends."

Still no answer, and the Master could see that the Doctor was getting worried.

"Maybe they are out?" Sherlock suggested. "Or is it the wrong date again?"

The Master huffed and looked around. "It's more like they don't want us here." He mumbled.

"No, nono, no!" The Doctor shock his head as he walked towards the open glass door that was leading into the living room. "It's the right date, it's the right time, they should be here! I don't understand..." He paused. "Maybe they didn't hear me..."

He didn't sound convinced.

"Amy!" He shouted, his eyes searching for the Ponds. The living room was empty, but the Doctor didn't stop shouting for the Ponds.

The Master sighed loudly as he followed the Doctor inside the house. It was one of these boring human houses and the Master wanted to puke because of the stereotypical home decoration. They had given up their exciting life with the Doctor for a house like this?

How boring.

But, then again, they would be dead by now if they had continued to travel with the Doctor, so it was probably for the better.

"Maybe they went shopping." He yawned and flopped down on the sofa. Great, now they had to wait for those stupid humans, and the Master hated waiting! He couldn't even break something because the Doctor would probably strangle him if he did so. Hey, but, that was kind of kinky, maybe...

"No." Sherlock, who stood next to the sofa, cut through the Master's thoughts.

"What, no?" The Time Lord asked in return, surprised that someone disagreed with him. The Doctor was now somewhere upstairs, still calling for Amy and Rory.

"This is a trap." Sherlock said, slowly. "You see that cup of tea? It's not cold and not even finished to the half. Why would someone make a cup of tea if they know that they are about to leave?" He nodded towards the kitchen. "You hear that? That's the radio. No one leaves the radio on before they leave the house."

"Maybe they just forgot to do it." The Master disagreed. Really, this was ridiculous!

The detective turned again, ignoring the Master's statement, and pointed at the glass door. "The door to the backyard was open, which means they must have expected us, knowing that the Doctor would land the TARDIS in the backyard exactly like he told them." He turned to face the Master. "They are not here, but someone else is. We have to go."

The Master wanted to object, because wow this were mere theories, but then they heard the surprised scream of the Doctor and a loud bang as a door was closed forcefully.

"Run, run!" The Doctor yelled as he jumped down the stairs, waving wildly at his companions.

"Was someone upstairs?" Sherlock wanted to know, but he got his answer as the door from upstairs was thrown out of its hinges.

"Yes!" The Doctor yelled and grabbed Sherlock by his arm. "Now come on, come, we have to get out of here!"

The Master followed them outside. He dared to look over his shoulder and saw a human running after them. A woman in her thirties with red hair and a leather jacket stood at the top of the stairs. She grinned as she saw his gaze and her eyes turned black.

Well, great.

The Doctor and Sherlock had reached the TARDIS, and the Doctor opened her door with a jerk. He jumped inside, a hand outstretched for the Master and Sherlock, but then the blue door of the ship closed, leaving the Master and Sherlock outside.

"What the bloody hell!" The Master screamed in anger, his fists hammering against the doors. "Open the damn door! We're about to get killed!"

"I am sorry, I am so sorry! I am trying but she refuses to open the doors!" The Doctor cried from inside his ship. The Master could hear the frustration in the Doctor's voice. He turned his gaze to the window and saw the Doctor's desperate face from behind the glass, his mismatched eyes wide. "Don't worry,I'll open the door, I'll open it! Just wait!"

The sound of the sonic screwdriver was to be heard, but nothing happened. The Doctor cursed in Gallifreyan and turned away from the window. "Come on, old girl! Don't do this _now_!"

The TARDIS made a rattling noise and the light on top of the box began to blink.

"Oh no, no!" The Master pressed his whole weight against the door, trying to push it open. "You are not going to leave us here!"

But then the TARDIS began to dematerialize in front of their eyes!

"Fuck!" The Master hit the TARDIS with his fist and Sherlock had to hold him back so he wouldn't continue hitting the box. "Watch out!" The detective yelled and pushed the Master to the ground.

Black smoke filled the air, and at first the Master thought that something was on fire, but then he remembered and suddenly he felt a little sick.

"Demon!" He hissed, ready to jump up and face the creature, but the black smoke sneaked past them and managed to find its way inside the TARDIS.

"No!" The Master scrambled to his feet and there was panic welling up inside of him. He needed to stop the demon, but it was already too late.

The last thing the Master heard was the Doctor's scream and Balthazar's monotone voice saying "Emergency system activated."

Then the TARDIS was gone, as well as the demon and the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> **Look I've[drawn](http://georginoschkavincen.deviantart.com/art/Best-Space-Bros-371038490) the Doc and the Master together acting like idiots


	3. Let's call the angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this is so not good!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this chappy took me a while, I am sry. I had stuff to do and somehow I found it difficult to write anything. So,yeah,here you go!

**Chapter 2**

"No!" The Doctor tried to open the door, but nothing happened! This was not cool, not cool at all! Even his sonic screwdriver was of no use, though that was probably because the door was made of wood...

He cursed in Gallifreyan and hurried to the console. "Come on, old girl! Don't do this to me now!" He pushed various buttons, hoping that they would stop his old girl from disappearing into the vortex without his companions at his side, but it was of no use; the TARDIS refused to open her doors. Instead several lights began to blink, basically screaming 'danger' at him.

However, he chose to ignore the flashing lights and pressed his hands down against the console as if to stop her from leaving the backyard of the Ponds.

Ponds, his Ponds!

The engines of the TARDIS rattled and hummed and he knew it was too late; she was already on her way into the vortex and he couldn't stop her.

"Arhh!" He balled his hands into fists, his hearts pounding in his chest because no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen, he had to save them, had to help them, but now they were alone and lost and-

Was that black smoke that came through the small gaps of the doors?

The air to his right began to flicker and suddenly tendrils made of golden energy appeared in front of him, winding around and around themselves until Balthazar stood in front of him, his back towards the Doctor.

"Hello, dear." The Doctor couldn't see his face but he knew that Balthazar was grinning. Oh, the Master hated it when Balthazar was flirting with the Doctor, but right now the Master wasn't here...

"Emergency system activated." Balthazar's voice was monotone now, but that was no surprise since he was part of the TARDIS and her system. Right now all he was was the embodied part of the emergency system and his sole purpose was to make sure that the Doctor was safe; the TARDIS couldn't allow him to flirt with the Doctor, not if his life was in danger.

The Doctor was about to yell at said emergency system, but the black smoke had filled most of the control room, sneaking its way towards him.

This, this was not good, not good at all no!

The Doctor staggered backwards, his left hand on the console while his right hand was raised as if to calm the demon.

The TARDIS rattled and hissed, then she flung herself into the vortex.

"I don't know what you want." The Doctor said, slowly, backing away from the smoke. "Tell me what you want, we can talk,okay, alright? Let's talk, no need for viole-"

He had to dodge as the smoke rushed towards him, missing his head by a few inches.

"You!" Balthazar said, giving the Doctor a look over his shoulder. "Hide!" That was all he said before he disappeared into tendrils and sparks of energy, which began to chase the demon through the console room.

The Doctor gasped in shock, his eyes searching for _something_ , though he himself didn't even know what for. Probably for something to stop the demon, but the salt was in the kitchen...

This was _so_ not good!

"Earth, take me back to earth!" He yelled, his steady hands darting over the screen to type in the location data.

He knew someone who could deal with demons better than anyone else could, and it seemed that it would be a wise choice to visit them first before flying back to the Master and Sherlock.

"I cannot land while the emergency system is activated." The TARDIS informed him, using Balthazar's voice. She liked him, Balthazar. What a shame that she hadn't been able to meet him while he was still alive. Now she could only use her power to keep his memories, using the remains of his Grace to restore the appearance of the human vessel he had used while being on earth.

She was good, a smart girl, and Balthazar was almost like an own living being, but then again even the TARDIS had limits. Her energy was far from perfectly compatible with the Grace of the angel and that was why she couldn't bring him back to life; her energy was too strong to simply _support_ the last bit of Balthazar's Grace, instead she would consume it if they tried to fit them both into a human vessel. She would literally destroy what was left of him. And so all she could do was replay his memories, forming her own version of Balthazar while using a hologram as vessel for his personality and appearance.

"Why that?" The Doctor asked, crouching behind the console, his hands clutching the steel. This was getting really troublesome.

"The emergency system is blocking vital parts of the approach and landing system. A successful landing cannot be guaranteed." The TARDIS answered with Balthazar monotone voice. She never showed emotion during difficulties, probably because she was busy rescuing him.

Sparks were flying, the lights flickered. Somewhere an alarm was ringing.

"What?!" The Doctor cried, his body pressed against the console as he watched the fight above him. Sparks where flying and the golden energy of the TARDIS ripped through the dark smoke like a knife. "It used to work, it always worked, why isn't it working now!?"

"The emergency system was never required in circumstances such as these." The TARDIS answered calmly. "Please leave the control room and search for protection in one of my other rooms."

The Doctor shook his head grimly as he pushed himself up again, his hands back on the control device. "No, no! I've got this! We're going back to earth! The Winchesters-"

He couldn't finish the sentence because the TARDIS began to spin round, knocking him off of his feet. He almost flew over the railing but managed to hold on to it instead.

"Whoa, whoa!" The air was knocked out of his lungs and he gasped. The control room was spinning before is eyes as they rushed towards earth.

Golden sparks flew around, electricity was buzzing, the engines hummed.

The demon tried to rush towards him, the black smoke extending itself over the ceiling, but the TARDIS held the demon in place, never once allowing it to come near the Doctor.

"What do you even want?!" The Doctor yelled at the smoke, the knuckles of his hands white because he was clasping the railing with too much force.

There was a hiss, but no voice. The demon needed a vessel to talk. The Doctor was sure that telepathy would work fine as well, but he didn't dare to reach out for the mind of the dark creature. He was curious, always, yes, but he usually knew when to be careful. Well, almost always.

Anyways, he knew that the demon was attacking them, therefore it would be a bad, bad, idea to reach out for its mind.

The TARDIS landed with a jolt and the Doctor was thrown through the whole room once again. This time there was nothing he could grab and hold on to, and so he hit the opposite wall with his back.

"Ugh!" The Doctor managed to sit up on all fours, his head spinning with the sudden movement. Well, that was unpleasant.

"Damn, hurry!" Balthazar appeared in front of him, his back towards the Doctor. The hologram was flickering dangerously. "I will hold off that bloody thing." His voice wasn't as monotone as it used to be, and the Doctor knew that it was because the TARDIS was upset now, worried that something could happen to her Doctor. She was too busy keeping the Doctor safe, and it was Balthazar who was in control now, at least if it came to talking to the Doctor.

The Doctor stumbled towards the door, his eyes on Balthazar's back. The smoke swirled around, reaching into the center of the TARDIS, trying to disturb her system. Meanwhile the hologram flickered in and out of existence and Balthazar cursed in Enochian.

"Are you sure I can leave you alone?" The Doctor asked, his hand already on the doorknob. He didn't want to leave her alone, didn't want to leave Balthazar alone, because it was too dangerous! The demon could cause great damage and she knew that, but still, still she tried to hold it off, tried to save her Doctor.

She had saved him so many times, so so many, and he was grateful for that, but he had to save her too, had to make sure that she would be alright! And she wouldn't be alright, not with the demon inside her system.

He knew what he had to do.

With a swift movement of his hand he took out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the console. "I am really sorry." He mumbled, his eyes fixed on Balthazar's back. "But this is for your best. See you around, old girl."

Lights began to blink as the whole system began to shut down.

"Stand by mode, activated." Balthazar turned around, surprised by the sudden power drain, and the Doctor could see the disbelief on his face while his mouth moved without his consent. "Emergency shutdown in process."

"I am sorry!" The Doctor smiled apologetically as he pulled open the door, ready to run as soon as the protection shield was gone. "No!" Balthazar vanished in a swirl of golden light as soon as the TARDIS went into the safety shutdown, but the Doctor could still see a glimpse of the hurt expression on his face.

The Doctor knew that Balthazar felt betrayed and oh, his old girl was so angry at him...

But he had no time to apologize any further because the shields were gone now and the demon was free.

And so he did what he had always done - he ran, hoping for the best.

He ran as fast as he could, his long legs carrying him down the busy street. The demon had no interest in any of those people, the Doctor was sure of that, and that was why he didn't turn around to assure himself that everyone was safe.

People were looking at him, confused or annoyed, but he didn't stop, had no time to tell them what was going on - not until he was stopped by two policemen.

"Is everything alright?" One of them asked, and he sounded wary. The Doctor wondered why.

"I can explain everything!" The Doctor panted, his hearts hammering inside his chest as if they wanted to escape his body. "But there is a demon on its way and I think it wants to kill me so we should really hurry up because I don't want to die."

They looked at him as if he was mad.

...

The Time Lord paced up and down the living room, his lips pressed together tightly while he was staring ahead. It was difficult to tell what was going on inside his head, but it was never easy. Usually Sherlock had no difficulties in studying expressions and emotions, but with the Master it was something else. It was as if the Time Lord had built an invisible barrier around himself which made it impossible for Sherlock to deduce his next movements.

"We should call John." Sherlock suggested while his bright eyes were following the restless movements of the Master.

The Master snorted, not looking at Sherlock. "Why that? You don't think he can help us, do you?" There was contempt in his voice, but that was nothing new; the Master had never hidden his scorn towards humans, not even while talking to Sherlock, and it was likely that he would never hide it.

He saw himself as superior, and for reasons unknown to Sherlock the Master hated humans with a passion. Sometimes Sherlock wondered if the Master did everything he could to make the Doctor's life miserable, and that maybe hating humans was just another part of his plan of destroying the Doctor, but then again he seemed to care about him...

It was confusing, and made no sense at all.

But,it was probably one of the few things that Sherlock would never really understand.

"Well, it is better than doing nothing at all." Was what Sherlock answered, calmly.

The Master huffed, his arms clasped behind his back. He was silent for mere minutes, then he shock his head. "No. Not John." His voice was firm and allowed no buts.

Sherlock didn't even ask why; the Master wouldn't tell him, because the Master didn't need a reason to say yes or no - he just did whatever he liked to do without caring about others and their opinion on the matter.

"It is because you can't stand him." Sherlock mused. He had a weird feeling, the feeling that something was off, that something was not right...

They always avoided the topic 'John'.

So, clearly something was not alright...

Hopefully John was safe...

It took the Master several minutes to answer, as if he had been busy with something else. "Yeah. Right. He's ...annoying." He sounded more or less convinced by his own words. It had been a half-hearted attempt to agree with Sherlock in order to change the topic.

Something was not alright...

What if John had been hurt, _was_ hurt? What if something had happened to him during the years that Sherlock had been gone?

What year was it anyway?

"Let's call the angel." The Master sighed suddenly and sat down on the armrest of the armchair. Sherlock noticed that the Time Lord looked tense, almost nervous, his back upright while he usually sat in a slouched position. It was a small but noticeable change in his attitude.

" _The_ angel?" Sherlock asked, one eyebrow raised.

_Which one?_

_And, how?_

"Yeaaaah, the angel." The Master rolled his eyes, his hands pressed against the soft fabric of the armchair, steadying himself so he wouldn't fall off the armrest. "The one in the trench coat, here, what was his name..." He flicked his fingers, his brow furrowed. "Castiel! He works together with those Winchester brothers, right, and they know stuff about demons! I am sure they can find the demon _and_ the Doctor."

Sherlock was about to point out that the Master once ruled an alternative universe with demons at his side and that he should know more than enough about demons and how to defeat them, including tracking them down, but instead he took a deep breath through his nose and leaned back against the wall.

"Are you sure that the Winchesters know how to track down a demon without knowing its name?"

The Master shrugged his shoulders. "It's worth a try."

"You _do_ know that there is a high possibility that Castiel is busy and won't hear us?" Sherlock asked, his eyebrow still raised. He was an angel, after all. Sherlock assumed that he was busy hunting supernatural creatures together with the Winchesters. And again he wondered how exactly the Master wanted to call the angel.

"Well,it's not like we have another choice!" The Master snapped angrily.

"We could try phoning them." Sherlock said, and couldn't hide his amusement any longer.

"Well, let's try _phoning_ them without a bloody number!" The Master hissed in return, his hands clutching the fabric of the armchair as if he wanted to rip it apart. "The Doctor is the only one of us who knows the number, and wow, guess what, he is _not here_!"

They were silent for several minutes, both lost in their thoughts. The Master was glaring at Sherlock with a grim face while Sherlock studied the pictures at the wall. Amy and Rory seemed to be a young and happy couple, always laughing or smiling on their photos, but that was an illusion. The Doctor had told him a lot about the adventures with his companions, and he had told him a lot about his companions and their lives...

Once you had traveled with the Doctor you would never forget him.

It was impossible to live a normal life after having met the Doctor.

There would always be something amiss.

"Okay, I am calling him now." The Master said. He didn't bother with standing up, though.

"How are you going to call him?" Sherlock wanted to know, a neutral expression on his face which made it impossible to see if he was amused by the Master's choice. "With a prayer?"

They had never called out for an angel before, but this was the only reasonable way he could come up with.

"Guess so." The Master shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes, his hands folded neatly over his chest.

"I doubt that this will work." Sherlock , but the Master shushed him. "Shut up, I am busy!"

"Dear Castiel." He began, and Sherlock couldn't help but notice the mocking tone in the Master's voice. "Please come here and help us out, we need you here because the Doctor is gone and we don't know where he is."

The Master paused, waited, and opened his eyes. He turned his head, but the angel was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it doesn't work." Sherlock mused. "Or maybe he is busy..." He trailed off but had to smile.

"Don't you laugh at me!" The Master snapped and jumped up. "It has to work! If he doesn't answer, fine! How about Gabriel!" The Master took a deep breath and before Sherlock could stop him he began to pray again. "Dear Gabriel, we need your help, move your ass and help us out."

They held their breath and waited.

"I told you it doesn't work." There was something close to arrogance in Sherlock's voice. Of course it wouldn't work this way, it was far too simple and-

"What in Heaven's name do you think you're doing?!"

Both, Sherlock and the Master, winced in surprise.

The archangel Gabriel stood in front of them, his hands on his hips while he glared at them with his amber eyes. He wasn't very tall, but his presence was powerful enough to fill the whole room.

Sherlock noticed that he was wearing a dark red suit and his hair was combed back, giving him an elegant but serious appearance.  
He must have been at a meeting or some sort of important date.

"I had to disappear in front of several humans! I fucking told you not to call me again!" He looked around. "And no one is dead or dying, so why am I here?!"

"We need your help." The Master said impudently, and without any respect for the angel. He had never liked Gabriel, in fact they had been fighting each other from the start. It had been Gabriel who had stopped Ten from remembering, and it had been Gabriel who had silenced the drums. The Master had no reasons for hating the archangel but yet he couldn't accept him.

Gabriel's eyes widened as he pointed at himself. "Do I _look_ like I have time for you and your dumb problems?" He paused, shaking his head. The Master opened his mouth, but Gabriel was faster and answered his own question.

"No?" He paused again, this time smiling at the Master who stared back at the angle as if he wanted to hit him - repeatedly.

"Good, because I literally _don't care_!"

But he was here, even if he said that he didn't care. He was here, answering their prayer.

He did care, he just didn't want to admit it.

"I don't care if you care!" The Master growled, his arms crossed in front of his chest like a petulant child. "This is not about me and my problems, this is about the Doctor."

"OH, of course it is, sure!" Gabriel raised his arms, still smiling though it didn't reach his eyes." That's a different matter, then."

He wasn't even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

"It really is important."

Gabriel's eyes darted to his right side to look at Sherlock, who had dared to speak up. The angel looked like a predator, ready to jump. One wrong word and he would be gone again, leaving them alone with their problem of finding the Doctor.

"A demon attacked us." The detective said, calmly. "It followed the Doctor and -"

"And we don't know where he is because the TARDIS went off without us!" The Master said, cutting off Sherlock in the middle of his sentence.

Gabriel lowered his arms and rubbed his face with one hand. "Oh, great!" He sighed deeply. "That was exactly what I need..."

An awkward silence followed. Gabriel ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it, clearly struggling with himself whether or not he should help them.

"So, are you going to help us or not?" The Master asked impatiently. He appeared calm and collected, his back straight and his eyes as cold as ever, but Sherlock knew the Master good enough to see the slight trembling of his hands, which he tried to hide by putting his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses, young man!" Gabriel snapped back. "I am not your personal assistant! If you need help, ask someone else! I am busy, okay? I have my own life now,do you understand that?" He began to pace up and down in front of them while waving his arms through the air. His face was stern, his brow furrowed, but his eyes looked troubled, even worried. "I have _nothing_ , I repeat, _nothing_ to do with this! I am still under witness protection! I have managed to live a fairly normal life till now and I don't want to lose this life, _again_ , for helping _you_!"

He looked at them, still pacing up and down. "I don't even _like_ you! And, to be honest, I have done enough for you already -" He gave the Master a quick but intense gaze as if to remind him of what had happened between them in the past. "- and I really don't feel like sacrificing my current life for a hobo and his mad man with a blue box." He stopped and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, pals."

The Master was about to explode. He was so angry that his face had turned red and his hands were balled into fists.

Sherlock knew that the Master would ruin this with his anger and his childish behavior, and that was why he spoke first.

"I know that you have sacrificed enough already. Believe me, I too remember what happened in those 6 years." He nodded towards the Master, who growled quietly. "But you have to remember that it was the Doctor who got the missing part of you out of Purgatory, who gave you the chance to be whole again." Sherlock's eyes narrowed, a small smile on his lips. "You should consider helping us. If you don't want to help us, fine, we will find a way to save the Doctor without your help, but all we ask for is someone who can take us to the Winchesters."

Pressing his lips together Gabriel stepped back, his brow still furrowed. He was clearly uncomfortable and Sherlock was sure that the angel felt obliged to help the Doctor, the man who had managed to find a way into Purgatory without killing anyone.

"The Winchesters you say..." Gabriel trailed off, and there was something close to bitterness in his voice. "Haven't heard from them in a while, that's for sure."

"What about Castiel?" Sherlock wanted to know."We tried to talk to him, but he didn't answer."

Gabriel huffed in annoyance, shrugging his shoulders. "Don't ask me! I thought he would visit me from time to time, you know, so we could have a friendly brother to brother talk...But he never answered my calls, not once!"

"I assume that is unlike him?" Sherlock raised one eyebrow, and Gabriel nodded. "Very. But I guess he is busy with the Winchesters, or rather with one of them..." He coughed. Sherlock knew what he tried to implied.

"Okay, that is really great and all -" The Master made an angry gesture with his left hand. "But could we focus on the problem? I don't want to rush you two, really, you can continue your tea party _after we have found the Doctor_!"

"Geez!" Gabriel threw his hands up as if to calm to Master, although somehow it seemed more like teasing than calming. "What did I tell you about your horses? How about you calm the fuck down! Your _Doctah_ is a smart guy, I bet he can take care of himself for a while!"

The Master opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Gabriel was quicker. "I still haven't agreed on helping you, but -" He raised his index-finger, silencing the angry Master once again. "I am willing to help you _finding the Winchesters_. I'll take you to them, I'll leave you in their care, nothing else and nothing more! I don't want any more angel blood on my hands, just so you know!"

Relief washed over Sherlock, and the Master relaxed visibly.

"Thank you." Sherlock began, solemnly, but Gabriel shook his head. "You shut up! I do that for the Doctor, not for you two assholes."

If Sherlock was a normal human being he would have felt offended by the curse. However, Sherlock was not like other humans and therefore didn't care. He knew that Gabriel wasn't angry at him, he was angry about the whole situation.

"Well,what are you waiting for!" Gabriel reached out for them, his face grim but determined. "I don't have time for this all day!"


	4. Hello again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and the Master ask for help.
> 
> Meanwhile, the Doctor gets an unexpected visitor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! This chapter took me forever, kind of had (still have?) a writer's block...  
> Pls don't worry if uploads take some more time! (I'll be busy the next two weeks)  
> \+ I really hope that the writer's block is gone now *sigh*

**Chapter 3**

"I can explain this!" Gabriel said, his hands raised as he backed away, a nervous smirk on his lips. "Or better, _they_ can explain it! Ignore me, I'm leaving -"

"The Hell you will!" Dean Winchester glared at the angel, a frying pan clutched in both of his hands. They had startled him, that was for sure. He really hadn't expected _them_ to appear in their _kitchen_. That was not what people usually did.

"Usually-" Dean said, lowering the frying pan. "- people _call_ before they visit anyone!"

The hunter placed the frying pan back on to the stove, his racing heart slowly calming down again.

"It is an emergency." Sherlock explained. The detective hadn't changed a bit during the past year, but maybe that was because there had been no past year for him. He had been travelling with the Doctor and the Master for who knows how long, but it seemed that time had had no affect on him. He still wore the same clothes, the dark coat and the purple shirt, and his brown locks were dark against his pale skin. He looked like a vampire, one out of those crappy movies, had always looked like that.

"Excuse me, you little shit!" Gabriel snapped back while pushing the Master and Sherlock towards Dean. The angel was as quirky as ever, and even the suit didn't chance his appearance. "But I am busy!" He turned towards the Master, his index-finger raised. "And you - Don't you call me again if nobody is dead, because I am not your nanny and I am tired of your shit."

The Master huffed in annoyance, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he pouted. He didn't meet Gabriel's stern glance, nor did he look at someone else. He seemed to be busy with himself and his problems.

The angel snapped his fingers with a sassy gesture, a most certainly over dramatic expression on his face. "Au revoir!"

Then he was gone.

Dean stared at the empty spot, then he slowly turned towards Sherlock and the Master.

"What the Hell is going on here?!"

This day had started so well, and now this.

Sherlock leaned back against the kitchen counter, his hands neatly folded together in front of his body. "Do you have tea? This might take some time."

Dean was about to answer that with a yes, but the Master waved off. "Oh please!" He rolled his eyes. " The Doctor is missing and a demon is chasing after him. There, see! That's all there is to know."

"Wait, wait!" Dean looked from Sherlock to the Master and back again. "What demon?"

This really wasn't how he had imagined their reunion. To be honest, he hadn't imagined their reunion at all, because there had been other things that had to be taken care of. Closing the Gates of Hell, of example.

The Master shrugged his shoulders and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter."We have no clue. That's why we've come here." He eyed the apple, then wrinkled his nose and put it back down into the bowl.

Dean opened his mouth, closed it again, then he leaned back against the fridge, shaking his head. "Wow."

The Master eyed him warily, his eyes narrowed. He wore a suit now, a black suit, and it reminded Dean of the future that had never been. There was something dangerous about the Master, there had always been something dangerous and insane about him, but this time he seemed to be...different. The Master would never admit it, but he was worried. You couldn't see it, in fact the Master was as arrogant as ever, but there was something about him...Maybe it was the look in his eyes, or the way he shifted from one foot to the other as if he was nervously trying to hide something from the others.

Dean still didn't like him 'cause basically a lot of shit had happened because of the Master, and he hadn't apologized for it yet - not really.

"You expect us to find a demon without knowing its name?" Dean wanted to know, just to be sure. "Cause that won't work."

The Master's face changed, and for a split second Dean could see the anger on his face, however, he had enough control over his body to stay calm. For now.

"Is there really no way?" Sherlock asked, his eyebrow raised. He waited, observed, ready to read Dean's face like an open book. Dean felt uncomfortable, he felt watched, and he quickly turned away to avoid Sherlock's eyes. The detective had a soul now, but that didn't mean those eyes were any warmer. Somehow they still seemed cold, like a mirrored surface, only reflecting the outside but not showing what was happening inside. This, of course, didn't mean that Sherlock was still as unemotional as he had used to be, but he really wasn't the most social friend you could imagine...

"The Doctor..."

Dean felt his throat tightening. The Doctor was a good guy who always tried to help others. Now he was in need for help, and it was up to them to help him.

Or, was it?

"He got you out of Purgatory!" The Master hissed. He moved forward until his nose was nearly touching Dean's, and Dean had to squint in order to see the Master's angry face. "It is your duty to help him! Without him you wouldn't even be here!"

He was right.

Dean and Cas wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the Doctor and his TARDIS.

"He risked his life for you!" The Master snarled, and his hands were grabbing Dean's shirt now, yanking him even closer to the Master until he could look nowhere else but into the Master's dark eyes. "You better find a way to help him." He hissed, barely audible and only for Dean to hear.

"Or what?" Dean smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Or I am going to hurt you!" The Master tightened his grip. "You stupid monkey, you can't even imagine what I can do! And I-"

"That's enough!"

Both turned their heads to the right, visibly surprised; Sherlock had his arms crossed in front of his chest now, his cat-like eyes narrowed to the point where they were only small slits. His voice was calm as he spoke. "You two behave like children, and it is no good in our current situation. I cannot see how any of this brings us near a solution."

Ah, Sherlock and his rational mind.

The Master coughed awkwardly and let go of Dean, not looking him in the eyes. "Stupid, stupid!" He mumbled, and moved a few steps away from Dean, out of his personal space.

Maybe that was some sort of alien thing, the 'not minding personal space'.

Cas always did that, too.

"So-" Sherlock leaned forward, giving Dean a questioning glance."Is there really no way?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the kitchen counter where the unfinished breakfast was still waiting to be finished. "I guess not. It could be any demon, and without a hint it will be impossible to locate it, let alone summon it. We need a name..."

"Okay, so -" The Master walked towards the fridge. "- we can't find the demon, right?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead he opened the fridge and looked inside. He wrinkled his nose, clearly not happy about what was inside the fridge, and closed the door again. "So, how about finding the Doctor?" He turned around. "I guess someone should notice a blue box appearing out of nowhere."

"We don't know if he is still on earth." Sherlock pointed out. He watched the Master now, waiting for his reaction. "He could be literally anywhere."

Oh, great! This was really getting out of hand! And all Dean had wanted to do was making breakfast for Sammy and himself...

Well, great, really, fucking awesome.

"Guys!" Dean turned around, the knife for the butter clutched in one hand while the other hand was gesturing around. "I, _we_ , really want to help, okay? But we need some information, otherwise we won't be able to do anything for you."

There was the sound of footsteps approaching and then Sam stood in the doorway, looking pale and confused. "What is going on here?" He wanted to know. He noticed the Master and Sherlock and the expression on his face turned from confusion into surprise.

"You don't look well, Sam." Was the first thing Sherlock said before walking up to Sam, offering Sam his hand so they could greet each other properly.

"Yeah,well, closing the Gates of Hell is tiring." Sam smiled, but it looked forced, almost sad. Dean wanted to grab his brother by the shoulders and hug him, but he didn't.

It should have been him.

It should have been Dean who was suffering from the aftereffects of the trials, not Sam.

But it was Sam, always Sammy and not Dean who was worried day for day, because day for day Sam became weaker. There was one more trial to go, but Dean wasn't sure if Sam would make it. He didn't think Sam was weak, no, his brother was one of the strongest fucking people he knew, but even his brother had his limits...

He already looked like a shadow of himself, pale with dark circles under his glassy eyes, and he was so damn thin...

Cas tried to help them, sometimes. He was there and gone again, not really at their side anymore, and it confused Dean, made him angry. There hadn't been more after...the events of the past year. They had never talked about the kiss. They had never talked about much. Not about Purgatory, not about Lucifer, and of course not about love.

Sometimes Cas would visit them, only for a few hours. He was hiding something, again, Dean could literally feel it and it made him so damn angry, because Cas was trying to solve things on his own again and it never worked, had never worked.

Dean couldn't help the feeling that something was wrong. Cas had told him that he had managed to defeat Lucifer, and Dean had been superb relieved, but now...

Now there seemed to be a shadow hanging over Castiel, something that Dean couldn't see but something that was there. Cas would never answer his questions, was confused when Dean uttered his worries. He didn't seem to understand.

And so here he was again, worrying about his brother and his angel and the god forsaken world, wishing he could help them somehow, though no one would tell him _how_.

And now, now he had to find the Doctor, a friend, someone who needed his help as well, but he couldn't help him, because he didn't know _how_...

"Why are you here?" Sam asked, nodding towards Sherlock and the Master. "And how did you get in?"

Dean sighed dramatically. "Well.."

Half an hour later they were searching the Internet for results about a mental unstable man who called himself the Doctor.

And, finding the Doctor was easier than Dean had thought. It was Sam, of course, who found him, using the Internet to gather all the information they needed.

They were sitting in the library, all huddled in front of Sam's laptop while Sam explained what he had found. Well, all of them but the Master who sat across from them, his crossed legs in front of him on the table. The Time Lord was busy with the apple he was eating, and he wasn't paying any attention to what Sam was saying. Dean was sure that the Master felt incredible tough right now while he was trying not to care too much about the Doctor. He also did a great job not caring about how awesome the badcave was.

"Two policemen have found a delirious man who tried to convince them that a demon was following him." Sam said as he pointed at the screen, where an article about said man had been published on the Internet site of a newspaper.

"He ended up in a psychiatric hospital?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I wonder what the Hell he told them..."

However, it wasn't even that surprising. The Doctor was weird, you couldn't deny that, and he was too damn naïve, believing that everyone would accept his stories about time and space without questioning their origin. Dean imagined him, running down a crowded street while yelling about demons and his TARDIS, and yes, it was kind of understandable that they questioned his mental state...

The Master snorted in amusement and took a big bite of his apple. "Serves him right." He munched.

Sam looked up from his laptop and gave the Master one of his bitchy glares, one of those that said; _don't mess with my friends or I will mess with your life._

"What?" The Master swallowed down the bite and took another.

"You are just so rude if it comes to him." Sam answered, his brow furrowed. "I thought you both are friends..."

The Master snorted again, this time because he was laughing, and almost choked on his apple. "Excuse you, but we are not friends! I thought we had established that."

Sam rolled his eyes and let out a deep breath through his nose. "Yeah, sure, whatever." Then he turned his attention back to the laptop.

Sam couldn't remember the years that had never been, because for him they had never happened. All he knew about the Master's and the Doctor's relationship was what he had seen almost two years ago. Dean, though, knew that the Master loved the Doctor more than he would ever willingly admit. He was putting up an act, trying to make them believe that he didn't care about the Doctor, all because he was too stubborn.

"The article is five days old." Dean remarked and pointed at the date above the headline _'Delirious man thinks he is alien time traveler'._ "Let's hope the demon didn't find him first."

The Master looked up from his apple as he noticed that everyone was moving.

"Hey, so, where are we going?" He asked, now standing up as well. He carelessly tossed aside the leftover of the apple, which earned him a stern look from both Sherlock and Sam.

"I think we should call Cas." Dean said as he grabbed his jacket from the armrest of a chair. "Because we might need some angel mojo."

Yes, they would definitely need some angel mojo here.

...

"Hello? Hello? Please, someone? Hello?"

No one answered him. Of course not, they ignored his screams.

The drugs hadn't worked. He was a Time Lord, of course they did not work like they would if he was human, but they didn't believe him. Even the fact that he had two hearts seemed to be ignored.

Or, maybe not. Maybe they were thinking about what he had said. Maybe they were slowly starting to believe him...

He hoped so, he really hoped that they did believe him. It was not only _his_ life that was in danger, but theirs as well! The demon would find him, that clever thing, and it wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone as long as it was not seen by anyone who was seen as reliable source of information. For example, no one would believe a patient of a psychiatric hospital if they stated that they had seen a demon, no, because it would be seen as a fragment of their imagination.

And that was why it was dangerous here. No one believed him. A dead nurse and his absent body would lead to the conclusion that he had killed her, or him, to get out of the mental hospital that he had been unwillingly put in. Or maybe the investigators would suspect one of the other patients?

He was trailing off again, thinking too much about things that could happen while he should worry about his current situation.

He was somewhere in New York, trapped in a psychiatric hospital because of the involuntary commitment that had been put upon him. They called him John Smith, because that was what they believed to be his real name. It was the second name he had offered them, after telling them that 'the Doctor' was in fact his real name.

"Hello?" He knocked against his door, trying to get the attention of one of the guards. "Hello? This is important! Please!"

No use, it was no use! Why would no one ever listen to him! Rassilon, this was frustrating! If only his TARDIS was here...

Sighing, he rubbed his face with his hands and sat down, his back against the white wall next to the door. He put his face in his hands, trying to get his head clear, but his mind was racing, full of thoughts and possibilities and he couldn't grasp a clear thought. He never could.

For now, all he wanted was to blend out the dull white walls of the empty room. What an ugly room, really. A bed, a dresser, a night stand, no pictures...And of course the only window in the room was locked.

There was no way to protect himself from the demon. No salt, no pen to draw a demon trap on the floor, and no way to get out of the room.

He felt trapped, the room too small for him, and all he wanted to do was jump up and run away, because he needed his space, needed big rooms, and time was passing by so slowly...

He missed his TARDIS.

What day was it? What time? He had no watch, just his sense of time, which told him that about five days must have passed.

He could see them, the strings of time, if he looked past the layer of the real world. They reminded him of Gallifreyan writings, all tangled up and bright and calming, and it made him sad. And he didn't want to be sad.

Ah, it felt like time was passing by without really moving. As if it was standing still. The strings were barely moving at all. Nothing really happened.

How could humans stand this?

He felt awful and lonely without his TARDIS, without his companions, without anyone around him, without anyone to talk to.

If only they would believe him...

If only they would actually listen to him...

Ah, humans, sometimes they were so...complicated.

Sitting in this empty white room made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to be here, he really didn't.

He couldn't help anyone while being here. That was what he always did, helping people. Well, he tried...

"It's no good, no good..." He mumbled, his hands in his hair now, yanking at it. He was going mad in here, even madder than he already was; he had to get out of here, had to find a way to speak with the Master or Sherlock, or the Winchesters...

"Yes!" He looked up, a bright smile on his face. "Of course, a phone call! Ah, stupid, stupid me!" He hit his forehead with his flat hand, then he jumped up, all excited again.

They couldn't deny him a phone call!

The Winchesters, they would help him! They would get him out! They knew how to do things like that!

"Hey! Oi!" He knocked against the door, this time using his flat hands. "Listen! I can prove that I'm not lying! You hear me, eh? I want to make a phone call! Please!"

He waited, his hearts racing inside his chest.

 _Come on, come on,_ _**come on** _ _!_

"Oh, come on! Please! I know you can hear me!"

Nothing.

No one answered him.

_It's too quiet, too quiet!_

He didn't know how long he knocked against the door, yelling for attention. At some point he just sat down again, his back against the wall and his chin on his folded arms, and was quiet.

"Well,it's alright." He whispered into the empty room. "You are smart. You will find a way to convince them. Don't worry..." He shook his head, his brow furrowed. "Oh, nah, I'm not worried! Had it far worse than this, right?"

_Yes, right..._

But there was this feeling, this nervous feeling inside his stomach, as if to warn him...

This was not going to end well, oh no, he could see it. The strings of time were all messed up at the end, but his string, his string was...it vanished. It went on and on but then it vanished.

_Am I going to die? No...can't be..._

He had never seen something like this, a string vanishing...

_This is not good at all.._

He was so lost in his thoughts and the strings of time that he nearly missed his door being opened. It was the key which turned in the lock that brought him back to reality.

Finally! Good, good! He had a chance now, still had a chance to convince them!

He jumped up, ready to greet the nurse.

But, the nurse was not alone.

A brown haired nurse opened the door, a smile on her face, and next to her...Next to her, at her side...

"I..." The Doctor breathed, shocked. He couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes off of the man in front of him.

At first he was about to hug him, to tell him how sorry he was about all the trouble, how glad he was that John was alright and alive but-

This was not John.

No, oh no, no, this wasn't John.

"Sebastian..." The Doctor said, slowly, wary.

Sebastian Moran. The Demon that had kidnapped John.

The demon smiled, and it seemed wrong on John's kind face. It didn't fit. Wasn't right. Wasn't John.

It felt all wrong, oh no, and if only they had been faster, if they only had been faster maybe then he would -

"Oh, so you do know each other?" The nurse smiled, looking at both of them. She didn't know, didn't see...

"Yes." Moran smiled politely. "He is my... brother."

The nurse raised her eyebrows. Surely it was because there was no resemblance at all.

"I see..." She said, slowly.

"Maybe you should go now." Moran said, still smiling, and held open the door.

He could try to run away. He could manage it if he ducked away under his arm...

No, no, this was no option, he would put the life of the nurse in danger! An unnecessary risk...

And Moran would find him anyways...

He realized now that he was trapped. There was no way out this time, not without anyone getting hurt, and he didn't want anyone to get hurt, never...

"Yes. Yes, I leave you both alone for a while..." The nurse said, and she sounded hollow. Then she turned on her heels and left the room. The door fell into the hinges and an uncomfortable silence followed where the Doctor and Moran eyed each other.

"I've got your clothes." Moran said casually. He raised the hand holding a plastic bag. "I am here to get you out."

The Doctor pressed his lips together, his fingers twitching.

He had to be careful.

Moran studied him. It were John's eyes that lingered on his face, but it wasn't John who was looking at him...

"John..." The Doctor began, slowly, not moving. "If you can hear me-"

Moran laughed and clapped his hands. "Now isn't that cute?" His voice was cold and dry and he didn't sound like John at all. The Doctor flinched and tried very hard not to back away.

He had to stand his ground, had to show Moran that he was not afraid!

"What do you want, then?" The Doctor asked, and his voice was cold now as well, cold and unimpressed.

Moran wanted to play a game? Great, good, the Doctor would play along for now.

_Calm, you need to be calm! Remember, John is somewhere inside there and Moran might know where Amy and Rory are..._

" _I_ don't want anything from _you_." Moran answered, a bored look upon his face as he straightened his jacket. The clothes he wore were dark and casual, inconspicuous, perfect to blend into the crowded street without being noticed by anyone. "Why would I want anything from you? You know very well that my anger is directed at someone else."

Of course, of course, it was Sherlock that Moran despised, the man who had killed his boss...

So, if it hadn't been Moran who had chased the Doctor, who had it been?

"Why are you here, then?" The Doctor asked, his eyes on Moran while he tried to see through Moran's plan. However, it was a bit difficult to see through his plan when he didn't even know what his plan was...

For now he knew that Moran used John's body as a vessel. John could be dead or alive, though it was likely that John was still alive since Moran hated Sherlock with a passion and surely wanted to make sure that Sherlock would suffer...

Therefore he needed a plan, a plan to get out of this without hurting John.

Moran used John's body as a shield, knowing very well that neither of them would be able to hurt their friend in order to hurt Moran.

"Why am I here?" Moran hummed and raised one hand to look at it. "I was ordered to capture you." He looked up from his hand, his now black eyes watching the Doctor's face for a reaction.

The Doctor chuckled darkly. "I see. It seems to work well, if we consider that I am still conscious and unharmed. It's not like with the other demon that followed me, I guess? Do you want to ask me out for dinner? I've heard there is a lovely restaurant nearby, but I couldn't take a look at it since I am trapped in here, you know."

_Oh, no,no, what am I doing, stupid Doctor stupid, you can't just tease him, he'll rip you apart with his bare hands!_

Moran took a few steps forward until he stood right in front of the Doctor. John was smaller than the Doctor but Moran's presence was filling up the missing inches between them. "I was told to give you a message." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he spoke into the Doctor's ear. The Doctor shuddered as he stared ahead, trying very hard not to look into the dark and empty eyes in front of him. "We have the Ponds."

The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat as he sucked in a sharp breath.

_No..._

_No, no, no!_

"If you hurt them-" The Doctor grabbed Moran by the lapels of his jacket as he spoke through clenched teeth, barely able to contain his anger. "If you have hurt them I am going to make you regret everything you have done to them!"

Moran eyed him curiously, his dark eyes wide and cold. A smirk formed on his lips and he grabbed the Doctor's hands, nearly crushing them between his own, and the Doctor hissed in pain as bones cracked. He didn't try to free himself though, no, because he couldn't show any weakness now.

"Look at you." Moran whispered, clearly amused. "You can't even save yourself. And you honestly expect me to believe that you can actually hurt me while I am inside this meat suit?" He laughed and let go of the Doctor's hands.

The Doctor staggered backwards, his hands pressed protectively against his chest, a look of anger in his eyes.

"Here is the deal." Moran said, and took the plastic bag from the floor. He tossed it at the Doctor who barely managed to catch the bag with his hurting hands. "You come with me, no one gets hurt. If you fight me, I'll fight you."

The Doctor looked down at the bag in his hands, then back up at the demon. His stomach lurched as he asked, "What about the Ponds? Will you let them go if I agree to come with you and do whatever it is your new ...boss wants?"

Moran tilted his head. "I am in no position to answer this request." He turned towards the door, his hand on the door knob. "However...I know that they will suffer if you decide against coming with me." He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the Doctor. "That is the kind of thing that happens to hostages if the deal doesn't work out."

The Doctor stared at the demon, his hands clutching the bag even if it hurt, and he felt sick.

_No, no! It's alright! You can do this! Don't worry, what could possibly happen to you?_

"Okay..." He swallowed hard. "Okay, alright, I will come with you."


	5. So, you are brothers?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So all they have to do is get the Doctor out of the hospital,right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry!I haven't updated this story in months! I just couldn't find the strenght and will to continue. But a really kind message reminded me that people like this story, that I like this story, and that I should get my ass up to continue it. This chappy is a bit shorter than the others bcs I have to get back into writing again and also bcs I felt like I should update something even if it is just a short thing.  
> Thanks for the kind reviews and thanks for (still) reading the story. I can't promise that I will update regularly but I will try my best to continue this story.

**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

They walked down the long corridor, their footsteps echoing through the large hall. Busy nurses in white walked past them, charts and reports in their hands while they were talking in hushed voices.

"Where is he,where is he..." The Master looked around, his eyes scanning in every detail of the hospital; the large windows that let in rays of autumn sunlight, the white walls, the linoleum covered floor...

No Doctor, there was no Doctor!

"Stay calm, damn it!" Dean hissed, not looking at the Master who was frantically spinning around while walking. "They will suspect something to be wrong if you act all nervous!"

The Master snorted angrily and crossed his arms in front of his chest like a recusant child. "Who cares anyway? I mean, angel boy can just teleport us right in!" He turned to glare at Castiel, who answered his stare with his unusual blue eyes.

"The Doctor was followed by a demon. The demon is probably searching for him now. If I would fly us into the room it would notice my presence and therefore it would know where the Doctor is." Castiel answered, his voice calm but almost confused. "For all we know it could await us, so we need to be careful."

"Careful my ass!" The Master snapped, his hands pressed into fists. There was no need to be careful, not anymore! The demon would notice them one way or another, maybe it was already here! So where was the point in being careful?! The Doctor needed them, needed their help! But no, _no_ , acting all normal was more important than saving the Doctor!

_Humans._

They reached the information desk where an old nurse with greyish hair and glasses was sitting. She looked like one of those grandmothers in old children' books, you know, like those that eat children for breakfast and sacrifice their soul to the dark lord during their tea time before leaving their home to take over the world with their dark powers of evil.

Well, at least she looked like to the Master...

Said Master strode forward ready to ask that old human potato where he could find the fucking idiot who called himself the Doctor, but he was stopped by Sam's hand on his upper arm. "Let me handle this." The Master was about to explode right then and there, after all he wasn't here to stare holes into the air, but Sherlock raised his hand and signaled him to be quiet.

The giant walked past the Master, a fake smile on his pale face as he leaned forward towards the woman."Excuse me. There is someone we would like to visit."

The woman looked up from the computer screen, her gaze wandering past Sam to look at the four other people behind him, all dressed in suits. Her left eyebrow shot up and she gave Sam a questioning glance. "I don't think it will be possible for all of you to visit the patient."

Sam, who was still smiling, nodded understandingly. "Yes, yes! Of course! Just two of us will be going in. We're just all...searching for him."

At some point the Master stopped listening because, honestly, this was boring as shit and he had better things to do than this. His eyes roamed over the pinboard on the left wall. Too much paper, too much information, too much nonsense.

He was nervous, rocking back and forth on his feet, his arms clasped behind his back. He didn't want to wait any longer. He wouldn't admit it, never, but he needed the Doctor at his side. Weird, almost funny, how the roles had switched. Now it was the Master who was feeling desperate and alone without the Doctor at his side, even if he did hate the man...

Castiel was watching him with curios eyes. Those eyes were freaky, more than ever. Something about them seemed off but the Master couldn't quite tell _what_ , just that those eyes seemed colder now, more distanced, almost as if there was _something_ lurking behind them...

He wouldn't look away! He just stared right into the Master's soul, his eyes too bright and his massive wings outstretched behind him like an ominous shadow. They reflected the sunlight, those weird glass-like wings, and the reflected light looked like broken mosaic on the floor and the walls of the hospital.

Broken, like the grace behind the eyes...

"Second floor, room 211." Sam was back right in front of them and the Master was glad that he could finally look away from those creepy blue eyes. "Dean and I will be-"

"Nope!" The Master brushed past the younger Winchester brother and walked straight to the elevator. He suppressed the urge to scream _'He is my Doctor and I want to see him first!'_ because he was not stupid enough to let them know that he actually _wanted_ to see the Doctor.

And they would only think he was possessive...again.

Which he was.

Kind of.

The Master growled to himself as he pushed the button for the second floor, not waiting for any of them to make up their mind and join him in the tiny space of the mirrored elevator. The Master really couldn't understand how humans could stand those tiny boxes. He only used it now because he was too lazy to take the stairs.

Nearly bumping into the Master, Dean pushed himself through the small space of the closing metal doors before the Master could complain or push him out.

"You're not gonna go up there alone!" Dean said as he straightened his slightly rumpled shirt. "You'll only end up smashing someone's head into a wall."

"Yes" The Master replied dryly. "And it will probably be _yours_ now."

Dean glared at him with one of those bitchy glares, although they weren't as bitchy as Sam's funny faces.

"I hope that one day you will choke on your own spit and won't regenerate." Dean mumbled under his breath, his face directed towards the doors. The Master only pulled a face but was too proud to give a reply to such a stupid answer.

After mere seconds of awkward silence between them and even more awkward elevator music the doors opened with a _bling_ and both grown men immediately tried to push themselves out of the elevator, both wanting to be the first to set a foot out of the small box. A nurse gave them a quick and confused gaze before she walked past them while shaking her head in disbelieve.

"Excuse me-" Dean raised his arm to wave at the nurse, a smile on his lips. "- but could you tell us where to find room 211?"

The Master wasn't sure if Dean was trying to be nice to the nurse or if he really didn't know how to read door plates. Probably both.

The Nurse pointed at a direction sign right in front of the elevator, then she smiled a bit forced and continued on her way.

"Well, you truly are a genius." The Master remarked sarcastically while eyeing the sign. Room 211, left turn, right side.

"Yeah I know right." Dean smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, actually he kind of looked like he was about to strangle the Master but that was nothing new so the Master didn't feel threatened by the hunter's gaze.

They walked down the big hallway to the left. It was silent, but not the comfortable or awkward kind of silent. The Master had to admit that it was... creepy? Sometimes they could hear voices behind the closed doors though, low murmurs and sometimes louder ones.

The Master turned his head slightly to the side to look at Dean, who didn't seem to like the atmosphere as well. His lips were tightly shut and his expression grim. The Master wondered if he was reminded of something or...someone.

They sunlight that shone through the large windows seemed cold. The Master didn't mind the dim light of the autumn sun, _usually_ he didn't, but now he wished for the warm rays of the summer sun to fight the shiver that ran down his back.

And the pale light only made the white of the walls even more bleak and dreary.

Somehow it made the Master angry.

He missed the bright colors of the stars and the universe, he missed the different colors of the planets and even the ridiculous blue of the Doctor's TARDIS.

He missed the life with the Doctor, he realized, and he felt pathetic. The Doctor wasn't even gone for long but he already felt as if the color was fading from his life.

_ I've become his lap-dog, depending on him, needing him... _

The Master growled in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair.

_Pathetic!Pathetic!Pathetic!Pathetic!_

"Hey,stop,we're here!"Dean grabbed the Master by the arm and yanked him back before he could walk further down the hallway. They both stood in front of room 211 now, neither of them sure what to do.

"Let's just get inside." The Master suggested as he reached for the door handle, but Dean slapped his hand away. "We can't just -" He began, but the Master laughed.

"Why, because you don't do that? Don't even lie to me, pretty boy, I know that you and your moose break into flats to kill supernatural creatures...and probably a lot os humans too, just by accident, of course -" He grinned as Dean's expression darkened dangerously. "- and now you want to tell me that you don't want to open this door? It would be totally legal to-"

"That is not the problem!" Dean hissed, pointing at the door. "Don't you get it!?"

The Master blinked in annoyance. "Sorry, get _what_ exactly?"

Dean rolled his eyes in return but then he pressed his fingers to his lips, signaling the Master to be quiet. He had a very serious look on his face as he leaned towards the door. The Master furrowed his brow but followed the gesture until they both had their ears against the door.

"Do you hear that?" Dean asked, whispered, his eyes on the Master's face to watch his reaction.

"Hear what?" The Master asked, slightly confused. "I can't hear anything!"

Dean just looked at him.

"Oh." The Master said, slowly, because slowly it dawned on him.

It was silent. The room was quiet. There was no noise.

If the Doctor was in the room he would make himself hearable.

"Maybe drugs..." Dean mused, but the Master shook his head violently, his dark eyes wide. "Drugs don't work on us!" He said as he pushed himself away from the door.

"Excuse me-" They both turned around to the nurse that stood behind them. She was about 30 years old with black hair and dark skin, and she seemed very confused. "-but what exactly are you doing at the door...?"

The Master didn't answer, instead he tried to open the door, just to find it locked. "We need to get inside this room, now!" He demanded, his head turned to look back at the nurse.

"I am sorry, but I don't have the keys for the rooms up here." She answered, and she almost seemed afraid of the Master and his behavior because she backed away slowly."Visitors are only allowed between two pm and -"

"I don't fu-" Dean pushed the Master aside, a bright smile on his face. "I am sorry, my friend is rude and doesn't know how to behave." He gave the Master a silent glare, telling him to shut the fuck up or they would never see the Doctor. "Could you tell us if everything is alright with the man inside the room? He is my brother and I am worried about him..."

The woman gave Dean a small smile, glad that he was kinder than the Master, then she looked down upon her papers. Dean waited patiently while the Master paced up and down behind him. Damn that woman, why couldn't she just open that stupid door. Why use a key? A well placed kick could open almost every door.

Except it was made of steel.

Or other very heavy and unbreakable material.

"Uhm, I am sorry, but it seems he was released today."

The Master stopped pacing and his head shot up to look at her while Dean tried not to look too surprised. "Oh, he was?"

The woman, Stacy was the name on her name tag, nodded shortly. Her curly hair followed the movement of her head."By his brother, roughly two hours ago." She gave Dean a questioning glance.

"Didn't he tell you?" She then asked, and now she was weary.

_ He is gone he is gone he is gone- _

The Master could barely concentrate on the conversation Dean had with the woman called Stacy.

"Oh,well, no, he didn't." Dean answered and managed to sound offended enough to make her believe that he knew who had taken the Doctor with him."But it doesn't matter, I will call him." He forced a smile and the Master almost screamed into his face because how were they going to find the Doctor if they didn't know _who_ he was with and _where_ he was?!

The nurse nodded and smiled again,ready to leave. The Master wanted to grab her by the arm to stop her from leaving them without much needed information but Dean was faster than him. "I am sorry, but-" He smiled again as she turned around to him. "I have two other brothers. What was the name of..." He trailed off, knowing she would know what he wanted to know.

She furrowed her brow and the Master feared Dean had gone too far, but then she sighed and looked at the papers again. "Usually I am not permitted to give you any names but..." She paused, reading, then she looked up again. "John Smith was it?"

Dean was confused for a moment but the Master nodded hastily. "Yes!"

She raised her brow, probably wondering who he was any why he wanted to see John Smith, so he quickly added the best thing he could think of to convince her that they were trustworthy people who knew the Doctor. "I am his friend. Boy...friend. We live together. Lived. Until he disappeared. And turned up here."

This was probably not the best thing he could have said, and he felt really stupid, but maybe this heartwarming story would convince her...

"Ohhh,I see..." She said, slowly, and then she smiled at him.

_ Wow, thanks, I don't need your bloody pity, just tell me where he is! _

The Master smiled back, rather forced, but he knew it looked pretty enough to look real.

"Well,okay...But please don't tell anyone that I told you two about this."

They both nodded hastily.

"Okay, so...It was your brother Sebastian." She smiled at Dean.

Dean stared back.

The Master stared back.

"What?" They both asked.

Stacy's smile vanished slowly as she saw the confused faces in front of her. "Your brother...Sebastian? Sebastian Moran?" She gave them a worried look. "That is your last name,isn't it? Moran?" She asked Dean.

All color vanished from their faces as they stared at her, and slowly she seemed to realize that something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled, and the Master was already running towards the elevator.

_He is gone he is gone he is gone!_

The Master was sure his hearts were trying to escape his chest.

He felt sick.

_No, no, no, no!_

_ This can't be true. _

**Author's Note:**

> Timelines
> 
> Supernatural: Season 8tish
> 
> Sherlock: After season 2
> 
> Doctor Who: Timey Wimey, around the first part of season 7 (I...guess?)


End file.
